


Disoriented Dreaming

by iArgent



Series: Downed Twice Upped Thrice [2]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types
Genre: Late Night Writing, Late at Night, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-31
Updated: 2018-03-31
Packaged: 2019-04-16 11:57:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14164329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iArgent/pseuds/iArgent
Summary: A little domestic drabble of Alistair and nightmares.Please read notes.





	Disoriented Dreaming

**Author's Note:**

> This is just a syrupy stupid little drabble from way too far into a series I've been neglecting to be relevant. But it wouldn't leave me alone. So this cute moment of domestic thought from Alistairs pov is well over two full stories away, but, hey, here's some spoilers.

He would never admit it.  
  
Waking blindly from a nightmare to skin that smelled like salt and spice, an accent, a voice rough with sleep murmuring gentle assurances.  
  
He couldn't tell them apart until he woke up completely.  
  
When he realized Niro had skin that was always abnormally cold, hands soft even though he wielded a sword, he smelled like salt, roses and dragons blood. A lilting Orlesian accent that never died no matter how long he was surrounded by Fereldens.  
  
When he realized Zevran only smelled like salt if he'd been visiting Niro or working in the harbor, else it was spice, tea and occasionally leather. Hands calloused from knifework, accent Antivan, and skin blazing hot.  
  
He was pretty sure they knew. When he woke, blind and panicked, heart beating far too fast and breath coming too hard, that he only registered "safe" "love" and some mashed version of the two, knowing it was a spouse, not necessarily which.  
  
But he knew if he said it out loud something would change, maybe they'd tease him, he doubted they'd ever be angry at something so small. Or maybe they'd change the ways they woke him, but he didn't want that.  
  
He wanted the blissful confusing tangle of limbs, the ease of waking when they were both there, the fantasy that it could be the one absent if they werent, the dream that if his eyes were shut, duty never made them part.


End file.
